The Malignant marine taps Vape on the shoulder.
“We need to go now.”
Vape nods. “Sure, lead the way. Thanks for the save.”
“Let us go. Captain Jillarni will want to speak with you.”
“What about your friend?”
“He is at his celebration.”
“What?”
“Move.”
The marine and Vape enter the drop ship. Constructor listens as it lifts off. His eyes sublimate from the attack. An opportunistic observer runs up, but instead of helping Constructor, he grabs the two diamonds from his destroyed weapon and runs away. Constructor lies there and gasps, slower and slower.
The A-Men sit cross-legged in defeat by the missing wall of Miss Ery’s. They wait for the Templars to decide what to do with them. Each looks disgusted that the ODAs Lottery found outside didn’t come in to support them. Amorph seems the most agitated.
“Take your armor off and fight us fair!” he demands.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Lottery chides.
“This isn’t over,” Roger warns. “My team will learn from this.”
“Good,” Votary says. “Perhaps you can use that when the Malignant decide to walk across the planet and enslave everyone that they don’t decide to kill.”
“Eyes down, honey,” Lottery says to Moon Glare. “We won’t be going a second round.”
Lottery suddenly acts concerned. He turns directly toward Stitch.
“What’s wrong, Lottery?” Votary asks.
Ajit teleports into the room.
“I need Stitch now!” he screams.
“Sure, why?” she asks.
Ajit doesn’t answer. He grabs Stitch around the waist and teleports her away. Stitch soon finds herself looking at her brother’s body.
“No!” Stitch screams. “Jake!”
She rushes over to his body and places her hands on it. His wounds are reversed, but he doesn’t open his eyes.
“No!” she screams again. “Wake up! Jake, wake up!”
Constructor doesn’t stir. Stitch uses her helmet to scan him for life signs. She doesn’t get any positive readings.
“I’m sorry,” Ajit says as he lays a hand on her shoulder. “We were too late.”
“What happened?” Stitch demands as she whirls on the armored Lottery clone.
“The Malignant. They’re making their move.”
“Why didn’t you get me sooner?”
“We didn’t know. Constructor was handling his own. It was a simple recruit mission. Then Malignant pods began dropping onto the planet. They’re kidnapping augments and leaving. Constructor was just unlucky that he was fighting with one that they wanted.”
“Take him home.”
“I’ll get him to The Lair.”
“No! I said home. Take him to my parents.”
“Votary won’t like it.”
“I don’t give a damn!”
“Okay, I’ll take him home. Do you want to go home or to The Lair?”
“Take me back to Votary. The Malignant need to pay for this.”
Ajit disappears with Constructor’s body. A moment later he grabs Stitch, then leaves with her as well.
Mr. Polite and Melanie enjoy a dinner inside his perfectly clean house. Melanie slurps the remaining chicken noodle soup from her bowl.
“May I have more?” she asks.
“Of course, you may. Allow me.”
Mr. Polite takes her bowl and refills it from the pot on the stove. He returns with the bowl and places it before her.
“I enjoy our time together,” Mr. Polite admits.
Melanie offers an uneasy smile from behind her bowl of soup. “I do, too. Thank you.”
The comment feels less forced. Mr. Polite believes she’s finally warming up to him.
“You’re welcome.”
The couples’ dinner is interrupted by the extremely loud sound of something colliding with the roof above them and rolling into the front yard.
“What was that?” Melanie screams.
“Stay here,” Mr. Polite instructs. “I’ll investigate.”
Mr. Polite stands from his chair and walks to the front door. He opens it and dismisses the force shield he keeps in place above his domicile. He looks in the yard and sees one of the Malignant pods the news recently began reporting on. It’s battered, but only the nose cone is crushed. Someone bangs on the door from the inside. The door opens, and an orange armored arm reaches out. Mr. Polite doesn’t wait for anything else to happen. He holds out his right hand and crushes the entire capsule, with occupants inside, to a metal cube with twelve-inch sides. The twisted orange metal bleeds red from the tightly pressed seams. Drops spill onto the ground as Mr. Polite floats the wreckage to his recycling can and drops it inside. The wheels break off the plastic receptacle as it receives its new scrap metal.
Mr. Polite, content that the problem is resolved, whistles a simple tune as he walks back into his home to rejoin his dinner guest.
Votary sits in the pilot’s chair of the Valhalla. He speeds back to The Lair when he receives a call from Akio.
“What is it, Nijigen?”
“Votary, the Malignant are finally making their move.”
“How?”
“They’re dropping pods across the planet and abducting augments. Augments with exceptional abilities, it would appear.”
“That’s unfortunate, but we can’t afford to lose any more Templars trying to convince others. Constructor and Compel are massive losses.”
“I agree, but do you really want the Malignant to steal from our pool?”
“You sound like you have someone specific in mind.”
“I do,” Akio admits. “Gallery.”
“She didn’t seem inclined.”
“It doesn’t matter. Julie is insistent that we need her. We definitely can’t let the Malignant take her.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s close. She’s performing in LA. It won’t be too much out of your way.”
“It will with the Valhalla. You sure you can’t get her with Lottery?”
“After what happened to Jake, I think a full team should get her.”
“I understand and agree,” Votary says. “Is Seal Pup back?”
“He’s already dressed and heading to D2I to speak to the public.”
“Good. Make sure he tells them to stay indoors. Tomorrow is the kind of day you skip on your obligations.”
“I will. Good luck.”
“Thanks. Votary out.”
“Are we there yet?” Lottery jokes.
“Don’t start that,” Votary says.
The Templars laugh as Votary increases the Valhalla to maximum velocity. He allows the ship to be visible to send additional power to the engines.
“Captain Jillarni, the scanners indicate a Gudz vessel flying across the western hemisphere of the planet,” a Malignant sailor informs.
“Optimal. Make sure we send a full squad.”
“Do you want us to shoot them down from here?” Guntho asks. “It may save us a lot of heartburn.”
“Interesting proposal,” Jillarni says as he ponders the option.
“Sir, do not forget the order of combat,” Flaimeson advises. “Father betrayed them, but Mother will be displeased if we also forget our duty. That vessel can meet us out here. We must wait for them to launch their attack.”
“You speak the truth, Lieutenant Flaimeson. We will provoke them to finally commit to the battle, but we will not betray who we are,” Jillarni announces.
“Continue to monitor their movement,” Guntho orders. “I want to know the minute they arrive at the musical celebration.”
Votary hovers over the bright lights of the Gallery concert below. The Valhalla is once
again invisible to the naked eye.
“You guys wait here,” Votary orders. “I’m going to try a second time to convince this spoiled brat to listen to her elders.”
“What if you need us?” Lottery asks.
“I’ll call for you. This is Malignant we’re talking about. I’m not going to assume anything with them. In the meantime, patch through the images of the Malignant abductions on their giant screen.”
Votary stands from the Valhalla’s pilot seat and walks to the rear of the ship. He drops the tail ramp and jumps out over the city. He corrects his trajectory and flies toward the concert as Gallery swoons her audience with a soulful ballad.
“My love,” Gallery sings.
Votary slams into the stage. She and her band are startled. The concert quickly takes a pause.
“Not again!” Gallery screams at Votary.
“Just watch!” Votary demands as he points at the screen behind her.
The video shifts from showing her performance to the various cell phone video recordings of people grabbed by Malignant marines and forced into the pods.
Votary amplifies his own voice to reach the closest sections of the crowd as well. “One of these pods is coming for you. Let me help you. This is your last chance.”
A mixture of cheers and boos rise from the spectators. Gallery waves off her security from approaching Votary. Something they seem excited to not have to do.
“That’s horrible for those people, but you’re the only one who ever bothers me. You and the one who killed some of your own. Forgive me if I don’t want to take your offer.”
Before Votary can respond, four Malignant pods slam into the stage. Votary ejects Alpha, Charlie, and Echo. The three drones move to a pod each, and Votary takes the fourth. The doors open, and the fight begins. Votary yanks the rifle out of the hands of the first marine. He spins the weapon around and fires into the pod. His rifle barks as the occupants are penetrated multiple times. Quick flashes of flame brighten the interior of the pod. The sound and the death ignites panic among the crowd. People begin to run in all directions to save their lives.
Votary turns his fire to the pod near Alpha, but the occupants shoot back before he can eliminate them. Votary dives out of the way and knocks Gallery to safety in the process. Alpha tries to keep the door shut on the marines as they push to get themselves out.
“Get off me!” Gallery screams.
“It’s fight or fight now,” Votary says. “Running won’t get you anywhere.”
Gallery watches as Charlie and Echo are torn to pieces by the onslaught of pens fired by the Malignant. She focuses her hands at the third pod and sends two streams of energy. They collide with a marine each and easily melt perfectly symmetrical holes through their torsos. Both aliens fall over and their bodies convulse. Gallery turns her beams to the marines by the last pod. The beams are continuous and cut not only them in half, but they shear through the pod as well.
Lottery and seven clones drop onto the stage.
“Watch out!” Gallery screams.
Lottery Prime and his clones duck to get out of the way as Gallery brings the beams back around to hit the last pod. Alpha hops out of the way seconds before her energy bisects the last pod and the two marines inside it.
Lottery collapses his clones back into him and stares at Gallery.
“Aren’t you glad we came for her?”
“She still has to agree to come,” Votary says.
Gallery looks at the people who were celebrating just moments before with her as they flee in panic. She tears up as they run.
“This isn’t going to end, is it?” Gallery asks.
“No,” Votary answers.
Gallery takes another long look at her stampeding fans.
“Then let me help find a way to change that,” she declares.
“Thank you,” Votary says.
He wraps his arm around Gallery’s waist and flies her straight up into the Valhalla. Alpha and Lottery follow. Votary ensures that she’s properly strapped in and goes back to pilot the ship.
Gallery seems nervous seated among the helmeted Templars.
“I love your music,” Stitch says.
“Thanks,” Gallery says with a weak smile.
She shakes her head and sits back as the ship blasts off. This time it stays cloaked from Malignant sensors.
Roland nervously looks at his guest on The Intrepid Reporter. Seal Pup sits in the chair that Claire used to make him famous.
“Are you okay?” Seal Pup asks.
“Sure. You?”
“I’m good. Not my first interview.”
“Oh yeah, I guess not.”
The title sequence plays, and Roland begins his presentation.
“Good evening, this is The Intrepid Reporter, and I’m Roland Greer filling in for Claire Kennedy. My guest tonight is Seal Pup from the Templars of Olympus. I’d like to say it’s for a fun back and forth conversation, but–”
“We don’t have time for this,” Seal Pup interrupts. “In fact, screw this.”
Seal Pup unlocks his helmet and places it on the floor by his feet.
“My name is Bill Smith. I used to be a police officer in the City of Colberton. You already know this about me. Some of you may call me a murderer. That’s fine; I was called similar when I was in the Navy. Others may call me a hero. It really doesn’t matter. I’m one of a few who stand between you and death or enslavement. I’m begging everyone across the world to stay at home. If you have forgiveness you’ve been withholding or love that you need to proclaim, then do it. I know this will cause a panic. I feel terrible about that, but those of you who are inclined to fight need to know that now is the time.”
Roland runs off the set. He’s joined with most of the staff on the show. Larry tries to grab them, but he soon gives up. Smith continues to speak to a live camera that’s still pointed at him.
“For any Malignant bastards who may be observing this broadcast, we’re coming for you sons of bitches. Don’t think we’re a bunch of pushovers because last I checked, you were the ones with the embarrassing loss in Los Angeles. As we used to say when I was a kid, ‘I’ll see you after school on the playground.’ Be ready.”
Smith grabs his helmet and walks to Larry with it under his arm.
“Thanks for waiting, but you should get home now.”
“What home? This is my home. If the world’s going to end tomorrow, I’d prefer to embrace it here.”
“I can respect that. Tell Claire I’m sorry, if you see her. I’m sorry for all the pain I caused her as both Bill Smith and Seal Pup.”
“I’ll pass the message along. Would you mind doing me a favor, too?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I need you to kick the shit out of those bastards who called me ISH. Where I come from, those are fighting words.”
“I hear that.”
Larry slaps Smith on the shoulder, and the Templar rushes out of the studio. Larry is left alone on the set.
Seal Pup enters the Templar conference room. He takes his seat to Votary’s right. All the Templars are assembled, including the recently admitted recruits. They all wait for Votary to speak and begin the meeting.
“We have to attack tomorrow,” Votary announces. “The Malignant are calling us out, and they won’t wait much longer for us to use our ships.”
“That’s a foolish stance,” Julie says.
She sits in black armor with red pinstripes down the sides of her arms and legs.
“Have you picked a name yet?” Votary asks.
“I don’t need one. Just call me Julie.”
“That’s not how he works,” Seal Pup informs.
“Then you pick one for me. I really don’t care.”
“How about SOT?” Seal Pup asks.
“What’s that m
ean?” Nijigen asks.
“Strategic, Operational, Tactical. She’s got experience in these areas with The Enterprise. It works, and we need to move this meeting along to the things that are actually important,” Seal Pup answers.
“Good enough for me,” Votary says. “Why is attacking tomorrow foolish?”
“Because the longer we wait, the better we’ll be. Why give in to them?” SOT asks.
“Not true,” Lottery announces. “The Malignant sent this to us via the internet.”
Lottery taps a few keys built into the table in front of him. The screen at the end of the table plays a recording from Jillarni.
“Father, I am Captain Jillarni of the Ahika. Despite your unwillingness to observe the rules of Our Contest, my crew and I feel we should offer you a chance to rectify this. You have twenty-nine hours, one day on Coelum for nostalgia, to attack us properly in space. If you do not, we will assume that your fleet has surrendered and move on to ground combat. I am sure you are aware that you have no chance to stop us with the full support of the Malignant fleet. I hope this reaches you. I would like to see how well you have trained the Malignant of this pitiful planet. Forever enemies, until our celebration.”
“I stand corrected,” SOT admits.
“Seal Pup, tell me that you and Lottery have figured out a weakness,” Votary pleads.
“Give me a few more hours to test out Gallery. If what I suspect turns out to be true, I’ll have something in the morning,” Saager says.
“Okay, Gallery, Lottery, and Seal Pup work on the plan and be prepared to brief at eight tomorrow. The rest of you follow me for weapons familiarization. You need to know your firearms for this one. Don’t let them shoot you. The Malignant will be firing pens at us, not bullets. You won’t last long, not even me.”
Sleepers and Scouts Page 24
